


The Orphans

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Band A/U, Batfam Week 2018, Brotherly Bonding, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Foster Care, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Language, Maybe - Freeform, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orphanage, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt: A/U, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bfw 2018, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15520131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: A year ago, a new alternative rock band took the music world by storm. Known as ‘The Orphans’, the trio is comprised of three foster brothers, who met while living at the Wayne Orphanage. Managed by Barbara Gordon, daughter of the famed ‘Jimmy G’, of White Blues, The Orphans are the hottest thing in music. A bit dark, with a soft edge, the band is comprised of Dick Grayson, the cute and adorable drummer, Jason Todd, angsty and moody singer, and Tim Drake, the eternal nerd on guitar.Day 4 of BatFam Week 2018, Prompt:A/U





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So be forewarned, like it says in the tags, this fic is fairly dark, with the intentions of eventually ending happy. Mind the tags, kiddies!
> 
> Also... I'm not a song-writer. So please forgive my somewhat off-beat attempts.

_Don’t tell me that it’s okay_

_Don’t tell me that it’s fine_

_I know this ain’t right, sir_

_‘Cause I can see the signs_

 

The flashing lights danced at the edges of his vision, the roaring of the crowd jarring in his ears like silverware scraping against a plate. A quick glance over at his youngest brother reassured him, the smile on Tim’s face encouraging, knowing how much he struggled with the live concerts. And this song, in particular, put him in weird headspace. He could barely keep pace with the music, and everything seemed… distant.

 

_Please don’t make do this_

_I swear that I won’t tell_

_Why do you keep talking_

_Please free me from this hell_

 

Tim moved closer to Jason, who was singing through half-lidded eyes; from this close, he could see the small, fine tremors passing through his middle brother, the way his throat caught at the end of every verse, clearly holding it all together by a thread.

They’d never sang this particular song live before. Jason had a list of songs that he was fine singing in the studio, alone, with only his brothers to see, that he refused to sing live, and ‘Stolen Innocence’ was at the top of that list. He wasn’t a big fan of live shows to begin with; too many people, all watching him, fans trying to get to him onstage, the after-parties, all of it left him moody and on edge for days afterwards.

But Babs had insisted; they were too big to stick to the small little venues and private concerts they’d gotten away with over the winter. They were ‘stars’ now, the newest craze to hit the music scene since Green Day, and concerts were part and parcel of the deal. And, she’d added, this particular tour was for a good cause. One that all the boys could get behind.

The ‘Rock Against Child Abuse’ (which Dick insisted on calling the Racka, like some sort of hick talking about a rocking chair) had been suggested to them by Mr. Wayne himself, a ‘request’ (that was more of an order, coming from the Big Man) that none of them could really disagree with. Seventy-five percent of all ticket profits were going to various charities and social programs in whatever city they were holding the concert, and all three boys had decided to donate their cut of the profits straight back to the Wayne Orphanage Foundation. Combined with Babs badgering numerous large corporations for matching contributions, this first concert was set to have almost sixty thousand dollars worth of donations to various children’s charities.

It hadn’t been until they were coming up with their first set list -the morning of their first concert, last minute, as usual -that Babs had suggested doing ‘ _those’_ songs. Not only would it draw bigger crowds, but it’d show solidarity, or some nonsense like that. Show other kids - _thank God she’d refrained from saying ‘kids like them’ or some other stupid platitude_ -that they weren’t alone, and there were others out there with the same problem.

So here they were. On stage in front of a sold-out crowd in D.C., with Jason looking like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

 

_Stolen innocence_

_You took away my youth_

_You took everything I had_

_And left a bitter truth_

_I’m hollow and I’m empty_

_There’s nothing left of me_

_I’m just a lifeless shell_

_And that’s all I’ll ever be_

 

* * *

 

As soon as they were offstage, Dick wrapped one arm around Jason’s shoulders, pulling him close as they made their way to the limo that would take them to their hotel.

“You all right, Jay?” He asked quietly, squeezing slightly. “ ‘Cause we can get lost for a while if you want. Fuck ‘em, we can go out, and hit up the town, grab some beers or something.”

Tim came up around Jason’s other side, rolling his eyes as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m down,” He muttered, falling instep with them easily. “I can’t handle any more reporters tonight. Or grabby fans,” He added, almost as an afterthought.

Jason shook his head as they slid into the backseat, the blessed silence enveloping them like a blanket as Dick yanked the door closed, the screaming and cheering falling behind as the car started moving.

“Nah. We gotta go back and change anyways. You two go out in those pants, and we’re gonna get mobbed by every girl in D.C.,” He said, trying for a joking tone, and failing.

But he had a point, Dick had to admit as he tried stretching the area around his crotch, the tight skinny jeans melding to him like a second skin. Tim’s shorts weren’t quite as bad, but still tight enough to be uncomfortable. Jason was the only one in his typical loose jeans, and a plain black tee, while Dick sported the too-tight pants, and a white muscle shirt, and Tim with his shorts, white tee, and short-sleeve button-down hanging open. Their wardrobe was usually left up to the stylists, and only Jason was straight-forward enough to tell them to fuck off.

So changing was definitely looking like a solid plan, but the second they got back to the hotel, it’d be back into the fray. Back to Barbara, back to the reporters, and the fans, the critics, and the paparazzi. There’d be no escaping them.

“Yeah. Well, we’ve got two days ‘fore we gotta be in Richmond, maybe we can do some sight seeing tomorrow,” He said hopefully.

“You just wanna see the Air and Space museum,” Tim said with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, and? Like you aren’t dying to go to some stupid art museum,” Dick threw back good-naturedly. “I’m not gonna spend the whole time cooped up in the hotel; first time in D.C., and I’m gonna see the Mall at the very least.”

“Well, you two have fun with that,” Jason grunted, his head leaning against the window, staring out at the streetlights flashing by.

“C’mon, Jay. There’s a ton of museums, you can’t just sit inside for two days. There’s gotta be something you wanna see,” Dick cajoled, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder. “We’re in the biggest city in America!”

“It’s not the biggest city in America,” Tim said in exasperation. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“It’s our nation’s capital! That automatically makes up for any stupid size shit,” Dick shot back, before turning his gaze back to Jason. “C’mon, man, there’s gotta be something you wanna see; this place has everything!”

“Except fuckin’ quiet.”

Jason’s voice was bitter, with a rough edge, and Dick shot Tim a worried look.

“Jay –“

“It’s fine, Dick. I’m just tired. No big deal."

 

* * *

 

Barbara was waiting for them the instant they hit the hotel lobby, as upbeat as usual, despite the late hour, her ever-present latte in one hand, a smile on her face as she walked up to them, easily falling in pace as they moved through the marble entry way.

“Good, you’re here! Dick, _Rolling Stone_ is waiting in your suite, interviewer is Valerie Vale. She’s a bit of a snob, so play it careful, close to the vest. Tim, you’re on duty for the after-party tonight. Remember, these are the kids of some of the richest, most famous people in D.C., so best behavior. Jason –“

“Whatever it is, I ain’t doin’ it. Not tonight,” Jason said sharply, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’m takin’ a shower, and goin’ to bed.”

She hesitated for just a moment, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll tell _Time_ that you’re not feeling good, and try to reschedule for tomorrow; you want me to get Alfred on the line for you? I know you’re not supposed to talk until tomorrow, but –“

“I’m fine. Just tired. I'll see you guys in the morning,” He muttered, before breaking from the group, one of the bodyguards trailing close behind as he made his way to the elevator.

She waited until he was out of earshot, before looking at Tim and Dick. “I already cleared out the mini-bar in his room, and bribed the staff to keep them from delivering. You guys think he’s up for this? This is only the first show, and I don’t want him to slide again,” She admitted softly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

Tim shrugged, coming to a stop, and the bodyguards formed a half circle around them to keep any would-be fans from getting too close. “Dunno,” He said simply. “He’s not in a good headspace right now, but… We’ll see. We might have to change up the set lists; he doesn’t like being on stage anyways, and this set list is definitely not helping any. Worst case scenario, we find somewhere for him to destress for a few days in-between concerts.”

"You think that'll be enough?"

"Don't know. We'll figure something out though."

Dick folded his arms across his chest, frowning back and forth at the two of them. “We’re already here, and you guys know he’s not gonna back down now; he’s got way too much pride to admit how much it’s bothering him, and he won’t call it quits for the same reason. I said at the get-go, when you and Wayne first came up with the idea for this stupid concert, but you didn’t want to listen. Dr. Pennyworth told you he didn’t think this was good for him, that he thought he could relapse. But you went ahead anyways. Well, here we are, and there’s no goin’ back. We just gotta keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn’t completely self-destruct. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Barbara looked up at Tim, biting her lip, concern and guilt warring for the predominant emotion as she spoke. “Was that just concern for Jason, or…?” She let her voice trail off, not wanting to give voice to her worries.

Tim sighed, starting to move again, down the hallways, and towards the pool area. “Part of it is, yeah. But they both _hate_ tours, Babs, you know that. Jason hates the attention, and while Dick tries to hide it, he’s not entirely comfortable with eight hundred teenage girls treating him like a piece of meat, either. He handles it all better than Jason does, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother him. But we’ll figure it out; like you said, first big concert, we’re all just trying to get our bearings, we're all a bit on edge. No worries, alright? Dick’ll take care of Jason, I’ll take care of Dick, and you’ll take care of all of us.”

She gave him an eye roll, as they entered the pool area. "Alright. Listen, I'll be around, and so will the new bodyguard. You get uncomfortable, just come get us, okay?"

He nodded, giving her a smile. "Don't worry, mom, I'm sure I'll be fine."

 

* * *

 

_We recently sat down with Dick Grayson, drummer of the hottest new thing in music, ‘The Orphans’, at the Ritz Carlton in Washington, D.C., after their opening concert for their summer tour, Rock Against Child Abuse._

_Immediately after changing out of his ‘suffocation clothes’ as he called them, we sat down on the balcony of his private suite, overlooking the area below, where guitarist Tim Drake heads up the after-party. All things considered, it’s a fairly quiet affair, the noise at a minimum, and Dick frequently stands up, to glance over the railing at his ‘brother’. But other than the occasional squeals of laughter, it’s easily one of the quietest ‘rock parties’ this city’s ever seen._

_But The Orphans are famous for keeping things low-key; their concerts have been labeled as some of the most relaxed, and least rowdy in America, and their after parties are no different._

_Even while sitting, Dick fidgets; he either drums his fingers against his leg, or taps his foot to a beat only he can hear, as he flashes what fans call the ‘puppy smile’, indicating that he’s ready to begin._

**So. Dick. You’re sitting in one of the most expensive hotels in the country right now, getting interviewed by Rolling Stone, after finishing a sold-out concert at the Capital One Arena in D.C.. Last year at this time, you and Jason were both working retail, while Tim was working as an intern, so this has got to be a little awe-inspiring for you guys, right? From barely scrapping by to super stars in less than a year?**

_Yeah, a bit, I guess. I mean… We grew up poor, so I gotta say it’s definitely not what we ever expected. Tryin’ not to let it all go to my head. [chuckles]_

**Not just poor. The three of you spent your lives in foster homes, and orphanages growing up, right?**

_[nods] Yup. We bounced around a lot, before we ended up at the Wayne Orphanage together, so just having this sort of **stability** is something, you know? Forget the Ritz Carlton, just knowing what’s going on tomorrow is sort of a new things for us. And don’t even get me started on what it’s like to actually have money in our bank accounts! [laughs]_

**I imagine this is quite a big change for you then. But that lifestyle -growing up in foster care -is part of the reason why you three decided on this particular tour, correct? Why don’t you tell me a bit about that?**

_Well, uh… Yeah, you know, a lot of people talk about how bad our foster care system here in America is, and how most people just do it for a paycheck or whatnot. But seeing it from the outside is one thing, and **growing** up in it is somethin’ else completely. All of us dealt with some pretty awful stuff, growing up, so when our manager suggested the Rock Against Child Abuse, we all jumped on it, you know? Chance to make a difference, and all that. Show people that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and that there’s people out there who understand._

**I know you’ve touched on it before, the abuse you, Tim, and Jason went through as children, and a lot of your music reflects that. I noticed at the concert tonight that you guys were pretty… muted, I suppose would be a good word. Was that just jittery nerves before your first big concert, or does this bring back a lot of unpleasant memories for you three?**

_I mean, none of us really like to talk about it in public, you know, but uh… I think that’s part of the problem, is that there’s this stigma, I guess, attached to being a foster kid, being abused, and all the shit that goes along with that, but I will say that, for me, personally, it’s rough. I don’t want to speak for my brothers, but I know for me, I don’t hide what I went through, but I don’t flaunt it, or brag about it, or ask for like, a victim status card, or whatever, you know? It happened, and it sucked, but we all came out the other side, and we’re doin’ okay for ourselves. And by doing this concert, maybe some other kid will realize he can do the same thing._

**Of course. It’s a wonderful cause. But something I wanted to briefly touch on, the three of you aren’t actually brothers, though, right? You were in the same orphanage -Wayne Orphanage -but you were never legally adopted or anything to make you brothers.**

_Now see, that right there is something that’s been a point of contention between us three, and you guys in the news for a while. You’re right, we were never adopted, but we spent time in the same foster homes. Me and Jason spent two years together before we ended up at Wayne’s, and Tim was there with us for about eight months . And some of the shit we’ve been through at that house… We’re closer than ‘blood brothers’, and you can call it what you want, or whatever, but we’re brothers. Plain and simple. After that, we spent a year and a half at Wayne’s Orphanage, and that makes us foster brothers, legally, or whatever you want to put on it._

**Alright, fair enough. Now, you’re all fairly young; Tim and Jason aren’t even old enough to legally drink yet, right?**

_[nods] Yeah. I just turned 21 in November. Jason’s turning nineteen in August, and Tim’s eighteen next month._

**About that. I thought the law was that you were in foster care until you were eighteen? How is Tim doing this with you guys then, since he’s legally not even an adult yet?**

_He emancipated himself, about the same time Jason aged out. We were all working, and I had just gotten my own place, so it just sort of worked out. One of the great things about the Wayne Orphanage is that it encourages the kids to make their own lives, you know? So since Jason was planning on moving in with me anyways, and we all had steady jobs, the Wayne Foundation helped Tim file the paperwork and everything. So I mean, legally he’s an adult same as anybody who’s eighteen._

**Let’s talk a bit more about the Wayne Foundation; you and Tim both have said in interviews that the Wayne Foundation saved your lives, correct?**

_[nods] Oh definitely. When I talk about how we need to overhaul our foster care system, I use the Wayne Orphanage as a model for what foster care should be. Mr. Wayne hires all the people there himself, personally,  and it shows, you know, they’re all great people. He has paid psychiatrists for the kids to talk to,  medical doctors who’ve been trained to deal with traumatized kids, tutors to help us catch up in school, and each kid gets his own room. As a foster kid, having your own room, all to yourself is just… I can’t even explain what that means. But I get that a lot of places are barely scraping by financially, but you know that old saying, ‘The kids are our future’ or whatever? It’s true. And there’s like, minimal supervision on these places. Like I said, all three of us had some really shitty homes growing up, places we stayed at for years, and nothing was ever done about it. A lot of foster kids don’t ever finish school, because we’re bounced around from district to district, home to home, so often that we fall behind, and we can’t ever catch up -that’s not even accounting for the uh, what do you call it, like, mental trauma or whatever that adds into all of that, from never having any sort of stability. So I always say that both the federal and state governments need to devote more resources towards our foster care system, or a lot of these kids are just going to fall through the cracks, you know? Turn to crime to get by, or just scrape out a minimum wage education, never actually doing anything with their lives, because they’ve never been encouraged, or they don’t know how or whatever._

**Well, I agree with you there! We spend all this money overseas, and –**

_[laughs] Nope, gonna stop you there. The Orphans don’t get involved in politics, beyond advocating for more money for foster care. We stay out of that mess as much as possible. It’s not our place, not our soapbox, you know? To be honest, none of us are comfortable preaching our beliefs, telling people they should think like we do just because we got lucky, and made it to a stage, you know?_

**Of course. I can respect that. But that looks like all the time we have, and I’m sure you want to get down to the party, right?**

_Nah, I’m probably just gonna head to bed after you leave. [laughs] We’re actually pretty boring, we just go to these parties to hang out with the fans. And Tim’s got that covered for tonight, so I’ll probably just take a shower, and hit the hay. I’m hoping to see some museums tomorrow._

**Alright, well, I hope you enjoy D.C., Dick. And thank you.**

_Anytime._

 

* * *

 

After ushering the interviewer out of his room, Dick took a quick shower, throwing on his fuzzy pajama bottoms, and made his way out into the hallway, giving Ronny -his bodyguard for the night -a nod as he closed the door to his room behind him.

“Probably gonna sleep in Jay’s room tonight, so feel free to use my room or whatever,” He said with a smile. “I’m sure Ty can survive whatever we throw at him.”

Ronny nodded. “Alright, Mr. Grayson. Have Tyler radio me if you decide to leave Mr. Todd’s room, or if you two need anything, alright?”

Dick gave him a little two fingered salute, before moving down the hall, humming to himself as he walked two doors down.

“Mr. Grayson,” Tyler greeted with a smile as he neared Jason’s suite. “Staying over?”

“Probably. He out of the shower yet?”

He nodded, with a small frown. “Yup. Kicked me out about twenty minutes ago. I know Ms. Gordon said we weren’t supposed to leave him alone, but… Well, it’s Jason,” He finished with a shrug. “And I double checked, made sure there was no alcohol before I left. Give a holler if you two need anything, yeah?”

He nodded, slipping into the room, locking the door behind him.

“Finished with Rolling Stone already?”

Dick nodded as he moved further into the suite, spotting Jason’s unruly mop of dark hair over the couch, the piebald streak standing almost straight up, as he hopped over the back of the armchair next to it, landing easily in the seat, and settling in.

“Mmhmm,” He answered lazily, reaching over and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the coffee table. “Lady was a freakin' bitch, too. What’re we watchin’?”

“Tom and Jerry. Tim comin’ up later?”

“Dunno. Party’s supposed to be a few more hours at the very least, and he'll probably want a shower after.”

“You seriously gonna leave poor Timmers all alone down there?” Jason asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice as he sat up, eyeballing Dick hard, before letting out an agitated groan, throwing his head back against the couch. “Jesus, Dick, how many times do I have to say it? I’m fuckin’ _fine_ , alright? I promise I’m not gonna get shit-faced, and jump off the balcony, and I don’t need you playin’ mama hen, okay?!”

Dick didn’t look away from the television, merely nodding as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “Whatever you say, Jay Bird.”

“Dick, I’m _serious_ -I don’t need you to baby-sit me. Go. Have fun. Have Ronny take you out for pizza, or go get in the pool with Tim; I’m fine, I swear.”

“Mmhmm.”

“ _Dick_!”

Finally, Dick looked over at Jason, allowing some of the unease, and stress of the night to bleed through to his face as he met Jason’s angry gaze.

“Dude, did you ever think that maybe you weren’t the only one struggling tonight? I ain’t up for a few dozen fan girls ‘accidentally’ grabbin’ my ass, or tryin’ to get me drunk; not after that. It’s bad enough I had to have a soul-sucking leech ask for my life story tonight, that’s about all I can handle tonight, okay? So let’s just shut up, eat some popcorn, and watch stupid cartoons.”

Jason stared at him, eyes hard, for a few moments, before nodding, features softening as he lay back down on the couch.

“Alright. But no Looney Tunes.”

“Whatever you say, Jay Bird.”

* * *

Barbara was sipping at her latte, hard green eyes locked on her prey as she stalked over to Tim, and the group of girls surrounding him, struggling to keep her hand from crushing the Styrofoam cup as she smiled sweetly, laying one hand lightly on Tim's arm.

“Tim, I know you’re enjoying visiting, but those girls –“she pointed towards a handful of less-well-dressed girls, standing around uncomfortably in the far corner –“won the sweepstakes, so why don’t you go over and visit with them for at least half an hour, forty-five minutes, hmm?”

He shot her a grateful smile as he made the perfunctory apologies to the girls who’d been crowding around him, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ as he moved past her. She gave him a return smile, before turning back around to the gaggle of girls.

“Excuse me? That was really freakin’ _rude_ ,” One of the girls, a tall, skinny brunette, said, glaring daggers as she stared down at Barbara, her three-inch stilettos giving her at least eight inches in height over Barbara.

But she held her ground, folding her arms across her chest as she gave her a smirk.

“Actually, _honey_ , what’s really rude is harassment, and sexual assault,” She said, her voice dripping poisoned honey, her smile turning vicious as the girl’s jaw dropped, continuing without giving the bitch a chance to speak. “After all, Tim’s a minor, and I’ll assume by the margerita you’re walking around with, you’re over twenty-one? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go on. Get out.”

“What?! You can’t – I paid -this is -you can’t _do_ that!”

“Actually, I can. Per your agreement when you bought your tickets to this afterparty, any inappropriate behavior can, and will, result in immediate eviction from the premises. So you can either walk out of here on your own volition, or I can have security remove you. Your call.”

She could see the girl weighing her options; trying to decide whether or not she’d pull the ‘do you know who I am?’ card, before rolling her eyes snottily.

“Whatever. This party was lame anyways. C’mon, guys,” She threw back at her friends, and two of the four other girls followed her, as they sashayed away.

Barb watched long enough to ensure that they’d actually left, before motioning to Tim’s assigned bodyguard for the night, crooking one finger at him where he stood by the door to the men’s locker room.

“Yes, Miss Gordon? Everything alright?” He asked, a bit of nervousness creeping into his voice as he took in her stony features.

“You’re new, right? Chuck, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Let me ask you something, Chuck: when you got this assignment, did your boss give you the packet? The four page ‘special rules and conditions’ packet?”

He straightened immediately, chest puffing out a bit. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mmhmm. And did you read said packet, Chuck?”

“I… what? Of course I did, ma’am.”

“Good. So what part of ‘don’t let the fans touch Tim outside of controlled situations with either his brothers, or manager present’ escaped your grasp?”

“I… He didn’t seem to have an issue with it, ma’am,” He said, the cocky demeanor replaced by one of confusion. “I was standing right there; he was smiling the whole time, I just sort of figured… He’s not the first musician I’ve covered, they tend to like that sort of thing.”

Barb folded her arms across her chest again, quirking one eyebrow. “Firstly, I would like to point out that -as a minor -even if Tim did _‘like that sort of thing’_ , it would be a statutory rape charge for at least half the girls in this room. Secondly, your job is to _follow orders_ , and keep them safe. What made you think that you knew better than the pamphlet that the boys helped draw up, in accordance with their wishes?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up one finger, and continued to speak. “And lastly: not that it’s any of your business, but Tim would smile if someone grabbed him off the streets and dragged him into a dark alley. He has issues saying ‘ _no_ ’. Hence the special rule in that pamphlet.

“Now. Here’s how we’re going to handle this. You’re going to radio up to Ronny and Ty. Figure out which boy went where. Whoever isn’t currently on babysitting duty is going to come down here and replace you. Then, you’re going to go back to your bosses, and tell them that you’ve been relieved, and that I’ll personally be calling them in the morning to have a discussion about this incident. Was any of that too complicated for you? Anything you think you might know better than me, that you’d like to ignore?”

He glowered at her, but shook his head. “No. Ma’am.”

“Good. Then I don’t think I’ll be seeing you again. Have a nice night, Chuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is pretty short, but it took a lot of me to write, so... yeah. Longer chapter next time, which should hopefully be Wednesday.

After wishing Tyler a good night, Tim stumbled through the door to Jason’s suite, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion as he moved towards the living room.

The television was flashing, almost obnoxiously, the brightly colored cartoons causing the light to dance across the otherwise darkened room; the only other illumination came from the dim, blue-bulb nightlights strategically placed around the suite.

Given what he’d had to drink, the tenseness already knotting his muscles, and the oncoming migraine, Tim snapped up the remote, and brought up the menu, turning the brightness down to almost nothing; neither Jason nor Dick could sleep without the TV on, but he’d never adjusted to sleeping with it on, so this was the closest thing to a compromise they’d reached.

If not for the building pain in his head, he would’ve rolled his eyes as he turned around, spotting his brothers fast-asleep.

Dick was curled up in the large arm chair, one leg tucked underneath him, the other dangling up and over the arm in a position that had to be uncomfortable, one hand tucked under his head, and the other dangling over the edge, where it lay lightly on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason back was pressed tightly against the front of Dick’s chair, curled up in the fetal position, one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other laying half in front of his face as he shivered lightly. Even if he hadn’t already had a blanket, Tim knew the shivering had nothing to do with being cold. Knew that Dick was probably sleeping about the same.

Knew that he wasn’t likely to sleep any better.

He grunted to himself as he grabbed a pillow that had been left on the coffee table, stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt as he plopped down on the couch.

He simply didn’t have enough energy to worry about Jason or Dick, or even himself.

He was just too damn exhausted to care.

 

* * *

 

_He huddled under the blanket, ears straining to pick up the noise that was definitely coming, the soft footsteps, the doorknob turning, the door scraping against the carpet._

_Socked feet crossing to the bed._

_Hands reaching up under the sheets._

_Trying to sniffle back the tears, knowing that crying will only make him angry._

_Burying his head in the pillow, trying to keep his sobs muffled, trying to breathe through the pain._

_Crying himself to sleep afterwards, on sticky sheets and a wet pillow._

* * *

 

_He was waiting, already stripped of his clothes, a smirk on his face when he saw the doorknob turn; he’d been right, seeing **his** face at dinner, that this was what he wanted tonight._

_He stretched his arms above his head, tangling his feet in the sheets, kicking them off the bed, as **he** stepped into the room, and he made certain to give **him** his best smile as **he** stalked across the room to his bed._

_He made sure to move and gasp when he was supposed to; made sure to run his hands over whatever part of **his** body he could reach, smiling, and staring at **him** through half-lidded eyes._

_**He** was always nicer if he acted like he enjoyed it; if he did it like **he** wanted it. Extra treats before bed, letting him sleep in in the morning, and **he** rarely hit him unless he did something really stupid or bad._

_An easy price to pay._

* * *

 

_“Fuck you.”_

_The blow, aided by the strap he kept for just this reasons, sent him to his knees._

_“What was that, boy?” Hissed, as if from the Devil himself, promising more punishment, more pain, if he displeased him._

_“Fuck you.”_

_This blow caught him around the ears, ringing dancing through his skull as he struggled to pull himself to his feet, feeling his strong grip grab him by the throat, yanking him roughly and cutting off his air._

_“One more time, boy; push it and see what happens.”_

_“Fuck… you… sideways.”_

 

* * *

 

“Up and at ‘em, boys!” Barbara called out cheerfully as she stepped into the suite, switching the lights on in the kitchen. While she hated the startled look on the three faces that shot up from their puppy pile on the floor, it was the best way she’d found to wake them without ending up with a black eye, or somebody having a panic attack.

Or both.

She set the drink container -containing two large coffees, one black, one with lots of milk and sugar, and one espresso -on the coffee table that had been shoved up against the wall to make room for the boys’ makeshift bed, before moving to the balcony and swinging open the curtains.

“Got a busy day ahead of us if we want to get it all in,” She continued, giving them all a smile. “C’mon, up. Drink the bean juice, take showers, get dressed.”

Tim -looking the least rested out of the bunch -grabbed at the espresso like a dog after a ham bone, shielding his eyes with his free hand as he gulped down the bitter drink, pulling himself up enough to flop onto the couch. “Get all what in?”

“Sight-seeing. Mr. Wayne left a generous allowance to make sure you boys get to see everything D.C. has to offer.”

Dick shot up at that, excitement written across his face as all traces of sleepiness vanished, practically bouncing on his feet as he grabbed at his milk-and-sugar-with-a-tiny-bit-of-coffee. “So what do we have planned?”

Despite knowing exactly what the iternary was -she’d come up with it, after all -she pulled out her phone, and made a show of scrolling through the schedule as Jason glared at her, slamming his coffee back in two or three large swallows, but making no effort to move.

“We’ve got the Air and Space Museum first, then the botanical gardens, the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, the Lincoln Memorial, finished with National Art Gallery. Lunch at the Hard Rock Café, and dinner at Charlie Palmer Steak. After that, you guys are free the rest of the night. Tomorrow, we’ve got an interview with Time Magazine at two, and the charity meet-and-greet at St. Ann’s Center for Children from five to seven. So: breakfast is on the counter -apple fritter donuts -and showers, and we can get rolling."

Tim was the first to move, shuffling to the counter and grabbing a donut before heading  out into the hall to his own rooms, with Dick following not far behind, carrying a donut in each hand as he gave Barbara a grin, practically dancing in excitement.

As he closed the door behind him, Barbara turned her attention to Jason.

"How are you doing?"

He grunted noncommittally as he stood, stretching his arms out over his head, ignoring Barbara's wince as his shoulders popped loudly. "M'fine. Told you I just needed some sleep. You might wanna check on Tim, though; pretty sure he's getting one of his headaches. And neither of 'em slept good last night."

"Nightmares?"

He nodded as grabbed a donut, speaking around mouthfuls. "Uh huh. Pretty bad. Dick was whimperin', and they both ended up on the floor with me, so that should tell you something."

"Well, you've all got appointments with Dr. Pennyworth tonight, so that should help. Keep an eye on them for me, yeah?"

He gave her a small smile as he moved towards the bathroom. "I usually do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, each italicized paragraph is one of the boys' dreams -not all one boy with the same dream.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jay? Jay Bird, c’mon, you gotta get up, man,” Dick said softly, kneeling down and laying a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and shaking lightly. He wasn’t surprised when Jason feebly yanked away, a quiet groan accompanying his movements as the fourteen-year-old slowly rolled onto his side, facing away from him.

“Go ‘way.”

“Jason, c’mon, we’re gonna miss the bus, and we can’t be late again.”

When all he got in response was another groan, he sighed, and leaned down, grabbing one of Jason’s arms, and draping it over his shoulder, hauling the other boy to his feet as gently as he could.

“Gah! Jesus _fuck_ , Dick,” The shorter boy gasped quietly, his feet slipping as he tried to get his feet underneath him as Dick moved them around the small room. “I got it, okay? I’m up. I’m up.”

Dick frowned as Jay’s legs wavered, the sudden weight on his shoulder making him worried. “How bad is it, Jay?”

“M’fine. Jus’ give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”

“Obviously you’re _not_ ,” Dick said sharply, moving so that Jason could lean against the wall, before pulling away and moving towards the laundry basket. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

“Alright. Then we gotta get dressed, and get outta here; if we miss the bus –“

“I know, alright. Just toss me my clothes, and we can get rollin’. Any chance there’s anythin’ for breakfast?”

Dick shook his head, almost absently, as he rooted through the hamper, pulling clothes out, and sniffing them until he found a set for each of them that seemed at least relatively clean. “Not unless you wanna cook up some moldy burger. But there’ll be dinner tonight, though; new kid’s gonna be here around six, remember? He should be bringing shit back to fill the fridge for the social worker, and I’ll try and keep some leftovers aside,” He promised, as he handed Jason the clothes. “But we gotta cut outta school early, ‘cause we gotta have everything cleaned up 'fore she gets here. I’ll get the laundry, the kitchen, and the dining room if you can get in here, the bathrooms, and the living room. Sound good?”

Jason nodded, stretching as he tried to pull the shirt he’d slept in over his head, before inhaling sharply, a grimace of pain crossing his face. Dick sighed, and pulled back the clothes he’d handed him.

“Jay… Turn around. Lemme see how bad it is.”

“Said I’m _fine_ , Dick,” Jay said through gritted teeth. “Leave it alone.”

“Jason, I’m not fucking around here, and we don’t have time for this. Turn around, and let me see.”

Jason angrily held his gaze for a moment, before closing his eyes, and turning around with a grunt -something that worried Dick almost as much as Jason’s torn up back, still oozing blood . Jason refused help, or even basic first aid most days; letting Dick check him over was usually at the top of Jason’s list of ‘Unacceptable’ behaviors.

But he understood, once he actually looked closely at his brother’s back; the flayed skin still slowly bleeding, the deep lashes cutting into the muscle, pieces of his shirt stuck to his flesh.

“Jesus, Jay, what’d you _do_ to piss him off like that?” Dick asked quietly, staring for a moment, before heading for the makeshift first aid kit he kept hidden underneath a floorboard. “He _knew_ we had the meeting tonight. Lay down so I can get that cleaned up.”

Jason turned to glare at him. “Don’t have time; you said it yourself, we can’t miss the bus.”

“Fuck it, Jay, I’ll say it was me, alright? But you can’t go to school like that, man; you’re gonna drip blood everywhere, and you can barely move your arms. Now lay down. If it makes you feel better, you can lay on your side, okay? And here; take this,” He added, shoving the small white pill into his hand. “It’ll help you function at least, and it might kick in before I’m done.”

“Dick –“

“Don’t argue, okay? We don’t have time, and the last thing we need is a teacher asking questions today. ‘Sides, I can just get more tomorrow. So take it.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Jason grabbed the pill, practically snatching it out of his hand before swallowing it down dry. He slowly made his way to the bed, kneeling down on the thrift-store-reject mattress on the floor.

“I uh… I… Can you…”

“Yeah. I got it,” Dick said gently, reaching down, and pulling off the tattered remains of the shirt off, grimacing in sympathy as he slowly peeled of pieces of fabric stuck to Jason’s back by both dried, and still-sticky blood. By the time he was done, Jason was white knuckling the mattress, his skin pale, shaking as he slowly lay down on his side. “Jay… I gotta clean this out, okay? I don’t want ‘em getting infected, and some of these are… they’re really deep.”

“Really? I didn’t fuckin’ realize,” Came the grunted response. “Just hurry up and get it over with already.”

“You want something to bite down on? He’s still sleeping, and –“

“Yeah, I got it,” Jay muttered, grabbing his pillow, biting down on the corner of it, and then burying his head against the middle of it.

Dick took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, before pouring peroxide on the rag, bracing himself and scrubbing it quickly down Jason’s shoulders repeatedly. When Jason tried to instinctively pull away, Dick shoved him onto his stomach, straddling his hips, and using one arm to pin him down across the shoulders, hating himself as Jason stilled beneath him, the sounds of muffled sobbing still audible.

 “ I’m so sorry, Jay Bird. I’m sorry, man, but I gotta do it,” He whispered, trying for quick, knowing that ‘gentle’ wasn’t really an option at that point as he cleaned the bloody, ripped-open mess. After a few minutes of Jason struggling, Dick soothing, he finished with the rag, reaching over with his now-free hand to grab the bandages. “Listen, Jay, I know it hurts, and I know you don’t like this, but I gotta bandage it, okay? I need both my hands, and I need you not to fight me, alright?”

He could still hear quiet crying, fine tremors running through his body, but Jason mostly stilled, allowing Dick to open the large bandages, trying to strategically cover as many of the slashes as he could with the seven bandages he had, leaving the smaller boy looking like a child’s attempt at a patchwork quilt.

When he was finished, he practically threw himself off Jason, hating himself as he watched Jason curl into a tight ball, silent shudders wracking his body.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Dick. Dick, c’mon, we’re here.”

Dick snapped awake instantly, years of instinct and practice plastering a smile on his face as he opened his eyes, seeing Jason’s worried look; a quick glance around confirmed that Tim and Barbara had already gotten out of the limo, and he and Jason were alone in the car.

“Hey, you okay, Dick?”

He refocused his attention back on Jason, nodding as he unfolded himself from the seat.

“Yeah, I’m great! Let’s go see some space shuttles, huh? C’mon,” He said, forcing excitement into his voice as he pulled himself out of the car, stretching his arms over his head as he stared up at the building. “Dude, I can’t believe we’re actually going to the Air and Space Museum. This is great. Remind me to send Bruce a card or somethin’.”

Barbara rolled her eyes as they all started moving towards the entrance. “You know, it’s amazing.”

“What is?”

“How you can just fall asleep wherever, whenever, then wake up like nothing and jump right back into it,” She said with a laugh. “It takes me at least an hour and a few cups of coffee to even function.”

“You learn to wake up quick when you live with a guy who likes to start his beatings while you’re still asleep.”

Barbara blanched at Tim’s casual tone, before turning her attention back to Dick.

“Dick, I –“

“No worries, Babs; c’mon, I don’t wanna miss anything,” He said with an eyeroll.


End file.
